


the kiss

by mercuryhatter



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, look they are kissing, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Congruent with my "The Agony of Life..." fic, an expansion of the E/R kiss that happens right after Grantaire finishes detoxing. Because I can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [truethingsproved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truethingsproved/gifts).



> I wrote this at four-thirty in the morning
> 
> I am going to bed now

Enjolras still sometimes reflected on that kiss, long after Grantaire was up and walking and only looking a little worse for wear anymore. Those first couple of weeks after their failed rebellion were still fuzzy in his head, from lack of sleep and refusing to eat and the complete, single-minded focus on anyone but himself. 

If he was being honest, however, it was mostly Grantaire that he focused on. He still occasionally felt guilty about it, but every time Grantaire so much as shifted in sleep Enjolras found himself by his side without even really knowing how he’d gotten there. 

Thinking about losing Grantaire was like thinking about missing his lungs, and sometimes Enjolras literally had to press a hand to his chest to make sure that they were still there. The memory of Grantaire appearing from nowhere as Enjolras had prepared to meet his death alone played over and over again in his mind, the awful shock as he realized what Grantaire was planning to do, the overwhelming helplessness as he’d dangled from the window and listened to what he’d thought was his lover’s death, and the sheer desperation as he’d worked to keep Grantaire alive in the vain hopes that help would come. 

They had been together before, and sometimes it had been desperate, but never like this. Enjolras had always known to some extent that he provided a backbone for Grantaire, but he had never quite realized that Grantaire provided a set of ribs for him.

 

It was all he could do to stay sane himself during Grantaire’s detox, and he took the majority of the work upon himself. Joly was in a constant state of exhaustion anyway and always looked to be on the point of collapse, and the only one Grantaire would calm down for was Enjolras. He’d sit behind Grantaire for hours, arms clamped around his chest to keep him close, whispering into his neck that he was safe, that everyone was safe, that he was brave and wonderful and he would make it. Enjolras started sleeping in Grantaire’s bed, so that whenever the other man made the slightest movement he could wake up and ensure that he didn’t hurt himself further, and try to get through to him to comfort him as best he could.

 

Then there came one night where Grantaire slept more soundly for usual, and for hours on end, giving Enjolras a much-needed rest as well, and when he woke up, he wasn’t feverish, his eyes were clear and he wasn’t shaking, three things that had not happened since the detox began. Enjolras was already waking up when Grantaire sat up, but it was the sound of his name in a quiet, lost voice that jerked him upright.

 

He barely had time to say Grantaire’s name in return before they had their arms around each other like vices, regardless of respective bullet wounds, and it was unclear who initiated but that didn’t matter, their lips were meeting for the first time in what seemed like years and suddenly Enjolras could breathe again, his chest felt whole again, and he pulled Grantaire closer while being pulled closer by Grantaire, felt his hair being pulled by a fisted hand, shoved both of his hands into Grantaire’s hair in return, curving around the back of his skull and pressing him forward as if trying to consume him. Grantaire was just as rough, just as desperate, and it was getting hard to draw oxygen but Enjolras still somehow felt like a gag had been removed. He opened his eyes just enough to see Grantaire’s face mashed up close to his and saw barely-shed tears shining beneath Grantaire’s eyelashes. Enjolras understood the feeling completely and if he’d been physically able to stop breathing in every inch of Grantaire’s lips he would have pulled away and kissed those eyelashes.

 

The kiss only ended when both of them felt faint and spent, gasping, hands clutching at each others arms hard enough that each probably had new bruises there. Enjolras closed his eyes and let his forehead fall onto Grantaire’s shoulder, suddenly more exhausted than he’d been all week, and Grantaire pressed his hand into Enjolras’ curls, and neither let the other go for a very long time.


End file.
